


Living Conditions

by nightmare_kisser



Series: La Vie Boheme Universe [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmare_kisser/pseuds/nightmare_kisser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't take long for their living arrangement to turn sour, not to mention so very... tense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> And now, what you've all been waiting for, and the reason why I kept Kurt and Dave anal-virgins until the end of "La Vie Boheme": here is the separate, smutty, oneshot sequel. Enjoy.
> 
> This is meant to be a little humorous, just so you know. Serious sex I save for other times. Right now, I want playful things.

It literally takes two days of living with him before Dave starts driving me crazy.

And I don't mean that he's getting irritating due to some bad habit or another. Oh, _no._ How I _wish_ that were the case. Instead, I'm crazy in the sexual sense. He's making me insane little by little by simply being just out of my reach.

It starts the morning after our first night under the same roof. He gets up early for work and hops into the shower. I stir awake at the sound of screeching pipes turning the water on, and then kept awake when the same pipes squeal again as the water shuts off. I sit up in bed, my hair mussed, my breath reeking like it does every morning, the cat curled up between my knees.

That's when the first incident occurs.

Dave ever-so-casually steps into the bedroom in nothing but a towel. I stare, my lips parting and my tongue subconsciously darting out to lick them when I get to see in the clear light streaming from the open bathroom door precisely how _tempting_ Dave looks. He's covered from head to toe in lingering droplets of water, his hair flat, but his skin showing off in full detail how well he's taken care of his body over the years. I spy a thin treasure trail disappearing under the towel.

I try not to drool.

Dave jolts, nearly dropping his towel (dammit, why couldn't he have accidentally dropped it?) when he spots me sitting up, clearly awake. He steps into his walk-in closet (now half-full with my clothes), blinking. "Kurt… What are you doing up?"

I pretend not to be zoning in on his yummy body as I feign yawning and stretching. "I heard those rusty pipes turn on and off, and it woke me." I relay honestly, stealing sideways glances at him.

"Oh… I see," he remarks idly as he shuts the closet door, turns on the light inside, and starts changing. I can hear the rustle of fabric, and distantly I wonder what outfit he'll wear to the art store today.

He steps out again moments later, doing up a tie. He smiles at me, and bends down to the side of the bed to give me a peck on the forehead.

"I'd kiss you on the lips, but, you know… morning breath sucks. People in the movies who kiss right after waking must actually stink to high Heaven, but the actors are probably minty-fresh. It's all lies," he jokes, and gives me an extra kiss anyway on the cheek. "Gotta go. You live here now, so help yourself to anything. I'll see you in a few hours."

And then he's gone.

And when I finally hear the front door lock, I stumble out of bed, startling the poor cat, and dash into the bathroom. A hiss escapes me as I yank down my underwear, a tad frustrated with myself for getting worked up over something as simple as seeing Dave half-nude.

Without a second thought, I lower my hand to my evident arousal and pump away the problem, both cursing Dave for accidentally giving it to me and moaning his name to myself.

.o0o.

When Dave comes home, I'm on the couch reading a Sherlock Holmes novel. Sometimes, I swear, Holmes and Watson were _far_ too close of friends. And those films a while back with Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. ('mmm' on both accounts for that film; especially on Jude's, thank you)? Yeah. That had some innuendos in it. Such as in the first one, "Gently; gently, Watson; be gentle with me –" Mm-hmm. Not gay? Suuure, of course not…

Anyway. Off-topic. I need to stop distracting myself.

I peer sideways at Dave and offer a timid smile. "Hey, baby. Home early?"

"Yeah, they didn't need me much at the store today," he says, shrugging. He slips off his tie and unbuttons the first three notches on his shirt in two fluid movements. It makes me wonder how fast he could get _my_ clothes off – _No, Kurt, no! Stop thinking that way! This morning must have really messed you up…_

"Well, that's good," I say with a sneaky grin, my voice suggestive, "Because now we can have more time together."

Dave smacks a hand to his forehead. "Kurt, do you even know what you're implying?"

"Of course I know what I'm implying," I reply simply. I stab my bookmark into the spine of the novel and dramatically stand from the sofa. I whine as I trot over to my boyfriend, "Daaave, why do you have to go and be such a prude? Why can't you act like a real man and _take_ me already? We've waited longer than most couples, I know you've done some 'research' by now, and I know the old you in there somewhere hungrily wants to –"

He stops me mid-sentence with a hand to my mouth. I stick out my tongue and lick his fingers, causing him to remove his hand; not out of disgust like a child, but with a flash of lust in his eyes.

"While all three of those points are utterly true," he admits quietly, "I don't want to hurt you. Most couples like us… they don't go as far as you're asking. Anal sex can _hurt_ , Kurt. It can feel good, too, yes, but… I looked it up. I told Finn that I would never harm you intentionally, and I meant it."

I half-frown, half-pout, my hands firmly placed on my hips. "David, I think I'm well aware of the consequences, and there's a saying about how you shouldn't knock something until you try it. So either you're emotionally too fucked up to make love to me, or you're just scared, since you still have some lingering homophobia inside of you."

He scowls, "Well shit, Kurt, I dunno, maybe it's a bit of both?" he retorts, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs heavily, trying to calm himself. "Look… I don't want to have this conversation right now. Can we do this tomorrow?"

Giving up with a roll of my eyes, I drop my hands to my sides. "All right, fine. Tomorrow."

And I thought that was the end of it, because, really, I should have known better. As well as Dave and I work sometimes… But then during other times, I feel like we make such an odd couple. Case in point: this passing moment. So this should be the end.

.o0o.

But no. There is never an end when it comes to Dave and I, and I should know this by now.

The following morning, Dave doesn't have to go in until later, so I decide to get out of bed first and shower. Dave's a heavier sleeper than I am (it's a miracle he hears his alarm every morning), so the squelching pipes don't disturb him.

Instead, he's disturbed by a dream; or, at least, this is what I assume when he comes rushing into the bathroom – in his daze, not noticing that I'm about to step out of the shower stall – and yanks back the glass door, to most likely give himself a dowsing of cold water to cool his heated situation currently tenting his sleep pants.

We stare at each other for a second, our sleepy, early-morning brains churning, trying to decipher the facts.

He has an erection. I'm naked and dripping wet. We live together. We're both gay. We love each other.

 _Oh,_ we both seem or think at the same, judging by the fact that the look on his face mirrors how I feel.

It's yesterday morning all over again, except in reverse, and neither of us can seem to handle morning wood mixing with showers, and like Alice and the rabbit hole,

It

All

Goes

Tumbling

Downward.

Dave rushes at me, and all at once, his mouth twines with mine, our tongues meeting automatically. He gropes at me, his desire nudging my bare thigh through his pants. My wet hands wander along his spine to slip under the waistband of his pajamas, feeling the tight muscles of his rear. It's sudden, but daresay I love it.

He moans into my mouth, one of his hands roughly dragging its palm down my side and across my lower belly and dipping between my legs, fondling the sensitive skin just below my rising shaft. I let out a low whine, and even though we both taste disgustingly of the 'morning breath' we spoke of before, and even though Dave's clothes are getting wet as he presses against me and drags me out of the stall, we seem not to care.

Two days. Just barely two days, and all of the sexual tension between us instantly crashes all around us like broken glass, shattering our resolves and promises into thousands of pieces.

…And all of this is caused by two triggering events that should have meant nothing, if not for the strong attraction and love we feel for one another.

Lesson learned: don't move in with somebody and try to stay pure about it. If you like the person at all, even if they're your assigned college roommate, you _will_ end up sleeping with them in a less-than-innocent sense.

Pulling out of an intense kiss, his hands clinging to my hips and mine to his, Dave mutters a single-word question against my mouth: "Bed?"

I nod deftly, my eyes already looking intently at his neck. I want to go there next with my mouth…

Dave keeps his body close to mine as we move the five steps from the bathroom to the bedroom, and finally, the extra six-or-so paces to the bed itself. We fall onto the mattress, and I have to ask, "Why are you okay with this all of a sudden?"

He grins lopsidedly, his fingers playing a nameless piano tune from the back of my knee to my upper inner thigh. "You didn't see what I saw in that dream, Kurt. It was so graphic and so much of a turn-on that I woke up thinking, 'fuck it; I love him and want him and I'm going to _have_ him.' And so I am. But…" and he looks down between us, "Not before you have me first."

This perplexes me. "What do you –?"

And he answers me by removing his pajama pants and leaning up raw and real – _and_ _ooh, so very stiff and slightly longer than mine_ – against me. I emit a sputtered gasp/partial moan that causes my breathing to hitch and my heart to thrum even quicker beneath my sternum.

"D-David," I mutter, arching into him, our chests bumping, and the sensation is so good that I do it again, pushing myself up and brushing against him, the water lingering on my skin acting as lubricant to the friction. I slide against him, one perked bud skimming one of his, and our lengths feeling every inch of the other's. It makes me want to scream, because I've never felt this before. I've given and received a handful of blow-jobs, it's true, but _this…_

Dave stills my movements with his large hands. "Kurt," he says, his breathing just about considered a pant, and as I try to lean up again, I can briefly feel his heart racing as fast as mine. "Please, listen. I… I want you… to have me, first," he spells out with a roll of our bodies, turning us over. My hands land on his chest, my body seated on his lower half, and it feels like a much better version of that night when we made out on my old couch.

I tilt my head at him questioningly. Suddenly, the meaning dawns on me, and I nearly fall off of him, and the bed altogether. "Wait… you mean, you want _me_ to top _you?_ Dave, I'm really not the type, and – and besides, _why?_ "

"Because," he says sincerely, "I need to know if it's okay. I need to see for myself how it feels so that I know what I'll be doing to you."

"That's a very considerate notion, but Dave, I'm really not cut out for – what I mean is, I really want _you_ inside _me,_ not the other way around –"

He looks up at me, his hand touching my face. Between us, I can't shake how much I'm suddenly aching, some part of my brain a little turned on by the thought of getting the opportunity to enter someone, my genitals twitching at the thought. Dave smiles in that sexy way he does, and I feel it even worse. "Please, Kurt, just this once. Think of it as payback. And besides, after this – if I think it's alright to do it, anyway – I'll pitch for you to your heart's content."

As amused as I am by the gay-version-of-baseball being used here, I can't help feeling that he's going about this all wrong. I lean back, and Dave stares up at me. I shake my head. "It's not supposed to be like that."

It's supposed to be about love and passion and the heat of the moment, right? And this isn't it.

As reluctant as I am to detach myself from his body (my own yelling at me to go back there and satisfy myself), I know that this just isn't the time. But more chances will arise, after Dave's figures out what I'm expecting.

Stupidly, he asks as I leave to the bathroom, "Is it because we need a condom?"

Oh, yeah. He has much to learn.

.o0o.

Another two days, and we don't so much as brush elbows, let alone kiss. It irks me. I want to be able to touch him, but I know that Dave has to learn his lesson first. And I've picked up the idea from high school that if I leave Karofsky alone, he makes changes. So that's precisely what I'm doing. (At least Dalton taught be one thing I could use later in life.)

It works.

.o0o.

Tonight is a marathon of gay flicks on Logo, and the one currently playing just so happens to be Brokeback Mountain. I giggle to myself during the tent scene, and that's when Dave abruptly stands from the kitchen table, shoving aside his laptop.

"Damn it, Hummel!" he snaps, and I mute the television screen. He comes to stand between the gay cowboys and me. "I can't take getting the silent treatment, much less the cold shoulder! Just hurry up and tell me what you want from me!"

I immediately stand and fold my arms over my chest. I stand as close to him as I dare, and his eyes refocus on my lips, then rise to meet my pupils. He lifts his chin slightly.

"Still not going to talk to me, huh? What sort of relationship involves zero communication?" he mutters hotly. He grabs me by the shirtfront and yanks me closer. To remain balanced, I let my hands flail out to the sides. "What sort of relationship between two people who live together involves no contact for days?"

"No sort of relationship," I return softly.

Dave looks hurt. He releases me. "None…" he repeats, hollow-sounding. "Are you saying you don't want to be with me anymore?" His jaw tightens, teeth gritting. "I don't understand you, Kurt. I try to think of your well-being – I _offer_ myself to you – and you go and act like a little bitch about it!"

I shake my head fiercely, and feel my chest clench, heart drumming in my fingertips. My voice rises, "That's not the point! I'm acting this way so that you realize that _I'm not coming after you._ I'm going to sit here and wait until _you come after me,_ because with good intention or not, lovemaking isn't something you _think_ about. I thought you would know that, seeing as how you probably didn't think all those years you screwed girls, wishing they were guys!"

Dave looks conflicted. He looks as he did when he first kissed me: torn between punching my lights out and overwhelming me with his talented mouth.

"So that's it, then? You don't care?" he mutters, and I can't decide what his tone sounds like.

I stare at him, getting my face within range of his. "Yeah, I don't. I'll take the risks. I love you and want you, and some silly rumors about pain aren't going to sway me. Either you want to have sex with me, or you don't."

And really, I've always known that our affiliation, our indescribable _bond,_ has been rough around the edges and a tad too severe. I've realized for some time that Karofsky and I… we're too into each other. We bicker sometimes, we have our angsty moments, and then we're pressing closer and closer the next second. That's how it's always been. But is it too much? Have we reached our limit, or breaking point? And is that final straw really as barbaric and personal as intercourse?

Dave makes this tossing-head motion, as if shirking his thoughts. Then, forcefully, he eliminates the distance between us, and I welcome him with open arms.

We stumble down the short hallway, sucking at lips and ears, devouring mouth and necks, because two days is too much time between Dave and I not to make physical contact. And admittedly, the aggression and heat laced with lust and, deeper still, devotion, is making my head spin. Blood rushes through my veins, pulsating with each heartbeat, and all I can hear is the sounds of our breathing and the small noises buzzing in the backs of our throats.

"Don't… ever… do that… to me… again," Dave hisses in my ear as he tugs at my clothing, ripping my shirt from my back and over my head, shrugging off my jeans with sharp jerks that my hips respond to immediately, breathy groans slipping from my lips. I know that he means I can never deliberately ignore him again. I don't plan on it, because this feels just too damn good.

"You… either," I answer as I pop the buckle of his belt, sliding the strip of leather from his belt loops in one swoop. The sound of his zipper falling as I pinch it between my fingers is oddly satisfying, like music.

Dave pauses in his actions. "You mean offering myself?"

I shrug. "I was referring to the ignorant condom remark," because it's not like either of us has been with enough partners to even remotely contract a disease, nor do either of us plan on ever cheating, "But that, too."

And Dave laughs a little, a smirk crossing his lips. He leans into me as I remove his shirt. "You're an insistent bastard, but fuck, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't kind of sexy."

"Appealing to one another with aggressive love is fine and all, but you _really_ need to stop talking now." And I seal my statement with a kiss full of longing and tongue, both of my hands smoothing back his hair and massaging down his neck. Dave moans into my mouth, his fingertips raking down my bare back to grip my hips. He can surely feel every ripple of my trembling muscles, similar to how I can feel every shiver running through him.

A fire ignites within me, slithering down my abdomen and blazing below my waist. I press against Dave's chest, my mouth detaching from his and trailing down his neck to nibble at his collarbone. I ache for more, more, _more._ This is different than any time before, and we both can sense it.

I start losing track of things. My mind grows hazy, my arousal unbearably blinding. I feel hands dropping my underwear; I feel a frenzied body matching my own in height slowly lower me onto something padded and cool to the touch. I fumble for more skin, wanting to feel nothing but bareness on my bareness.

I moan Dave's name as I feel his weight on me, the barest of stubble – five o'clock shadow, my mind idly registers – grazing my cheek. I flutter my eyes open, not realizing I had closed them, and find him gazing back at me before he leans back, observing me. He had one knee between my legs, the other on the outside. Where he kneels at the edge of the bed makes me idly worried that he might fall backward.

"What?" I whisper. Why'd he stop?

One of his hands runs up my thigh, the one he isn't straddling. It continues over my left hip, along my left side, fingering my ribs as if counting them, before brushing across my left collarbone and touching my face.

"…I don't think I've ever really noticed how g'damn beautiful you are," he murmurs, nearly inaudibly. He leans down, gently kissing between my pectorals, one hand lingering on my face, his opposite hand tickling around my belly button.

That hand distracts me in particular. It dips lower, skimming over my hairless lower stomach (I'm guilty of shaving) and curving up to tap the tip of my shaft, directly on the slit. I release a strangled sound, something between a cry of ecstasy and a low moan.

Dave seems to like this noise. He swirling his finger delicately around the head, making me squirm beneath him. He seems… curious. Interested. And I feel him lean off a little more, and even though my eyes have screwed shut by now, I know that he's watching my nether regions, and strangely, I'm not uncomfortable with him seeing me this way.

" _So_ beautiful," he reiterates, and the way his voice drops to something lustful and loving like I always dreamed someone's voice would drop when they spoke to me during sex is just so perfect that it makes pre-come dribble out, and a stab of intense excitement streak through me directly to my groin.

Dave's hand is suddenly around my length, his fingers wrapping as if they were supposed to fit there. His thumb swabs the tip, and his hand pumps up and down at an in between pace; not too quickly, not too slowly.

I bring one hand up to my mouth and bite my knuckle, my legs kicking. I squeal a moan. I'm completely at Dave's mercy. And I think, all along, Dave craved this sort of control over me.

His hand continues its flawless ministrations while Dave nibbles and locks along my neck, down my chest, across to each nipple, tugging and massaging the buds with his teeth and tongue. I groan loudly, arching into him, thrusting dully into his hand, small mutterings beginning to filter from my thoughts to my mouth.

"Yes, yes… please… _yesss_ …" I hiss, and Dave sneakily trails one hand down my body, sliding beneath the curve of my back to slip a digit into my entrance. "Ahhh!" I holler, trying to be too loud because this _is_ an apartment with neighbors possibly around, but _fuck,_ I can't help it – it feels so… so…

That single finger hooks and pulls out, then delves back in, repeating over and over in time with the jerks around my erect member. At this point, I have zero control over my body. It twists and writhes and just about _convulses_ as Dave prepares me and pleasures me at the same time, and somewhere in my sea of non-thoughts I wonder how many pornos he watched to get this good, or if he just happened to know on instinct how to make me – m-make me –

My mind blanks, all thoughts shutting off like water from a tap. My body tenses, its movements coming to a screeching halt as I throw my head back and nearly squeeze poor Dave to death with my legs as I come, my nerves zapping with fiery electricity and my member lighting up with a melty heat I didn't know could feel this amazing.

Panting, my heart tries to return to normal. I can feel a sheen of sweat starting to cool on my forehead as I fall limp against the duvet cover (thank Gaga we have our own washer and dryer, because the stain that surely formed just now would not be easy to hide at a Laundromat).

In my throes of passion, I hadn't noticed that Dave slipped in two other fingers into me. When I notice, I tense up, but he's soon soothing my muscles with those fingers, his soiled hand switching out to use my own seed as lubrication. The idea is a little gross, but it feels nice at the moment, so I don't think about it.

"Dave…" I sigh, and I reach up a lazy hand to run down his chest, graze his length, and then my other hand flopping onto his back to pull him down for a slow kiss.

His fingers disappear from inside me, and suddenly I feel something hot and round push against the hole. Without meaning to, I thrust against it, hissing and wincing at the burning sensation as Dave presses forward, burying himself to the hilt.

I sputter an exhaling breath, and Dave's own breathing hitches as he sucks in air. "Are you okay?" he manages, and I can feel him shaking. "Because… nnhg… I'm _more_ than okay."

I would laugh if I weren't trying so hard not to budge. Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and all I can think is, "M-move."

Dave complies without a second thought. He pulls gently out halfway before slamming back in, his hips bucking, unable to control himself. I groan, but there was something in that return motion that felt like a static shock: tingly and _good_ around the pain.

"A-again," I whisper, my pelvis wriggling. This is new to me, and it feels otherworldly, like an out-of-body experience, except I am _so_ glad that I'm in tune with my body right now, because I wouldn't want to be detached from this.

My lover obeys, and pretty soon, he's rocking back and forth with me, lifting me up off the bed with his strong arms, his nose near my ear, breathing harshly. His chin is touching my neck, and I can feel him biting his own lip. I cling to him, arms around his shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck.

Dave's repeated thrusts into me… I can't get enough. There's something about the perfect mixture of indescribable pleasure merging with an edge of pain that mingles in a lovely, addicting manner that simply _hurts so good._

Tiny grunts and breathy moans emerge between us, and I can't even tell who's making which sound.

At some point, the friction and proximity and faint, teasing touches at my prostrate made me aroused again, my length occasionally bumping the tense muscles of Dave's lower tummy.

My hands wander down to Dave's hips, and I attempt to push him in farther. "More… more…" I murmur desperately in his ear, and he moans in response, pulling our and jamming back into me with more force. It's enough to send me over the edge when he strikes just the right spot a few times in a row, and I'm suddenly wailing a high note, my singing voice being put to good use as I orgasm for a second time tonight.

"Oh my _God_ ," Dave grinds out, cradling me to him as he loses his balance and topples backward, bringing me with him as he accidentally comes inside of me, triggered by the sound of my voice or the feeling of my orgasm working on the inside to clamp around him. Either way, all I can feel is the warmth spread throughout my innards, and it literally reduces me to a puddle atop the love of my life.

With the last of my strength, I shift my body so that Dave's now limp member slides out of me, and I can fully relax in his arms. He kisses the top of my head as I rest my ear to his chest. I use the sound of his returning steady heartbeat as a lullaby to drift off to sleep to.

But before I can walk the shores of sleep, Dave is chuckling breathlessly beneath me, his chest rumbling under my hand. I peer up at him. "…What is it?" I slur, exhausted.

"My head is half-off the bed. We're laying on it upside-down."

And I realize this with little care attached. I shrug where I lie, and snuggle into his skin. "Hn. Too tired to move," I say.

Most likely rolling his eyes at me (if not physically, then at least mentally), Dave props himself up and helps drag me to the top of the bed to lie next to him, our heads at last in their rightful place: on our pillows.

Dave reaches over and grasps my hand. His is sweaty, and I can smell our sex on us. I wrinkle my nose, and close my eyes again. A vaguely smile lifts the corner of my mouth. "We need to do this more often," I remark, some of my sass still leaking into my tone when I'm tired. "Dirty stuff is fun."

I feel the bed wobble as Dave shakes his head. "For right now, I just want to sleep."

I nod and scoot closer, facing him. He rolls onto his side, and I flutter my eyelids open to catch him grinning broadly at me.

"But I think I have energy enough to say that you're right, it was… fantastic."

"Worthy of another time?" I ask hopefully.

He nods. "Definitely."

And on that note, I can sleep in peace.


End file.
